


One last thought

by Booker_DeShit



Series: Dent in Time AU [1]
Category: BioShock Infinite
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Isolation, No Dialogue, Not Canon Compliant, Sad, Sad Ending, Unhappy Ending, Wordcount: 100-1.000, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:00:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23844118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Booker_DeShit/pseuds/Booker_DeShit
Summary: Booker's last thought before he leaves.
Series: Dent in Time AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1718173
Kudos: 6





	One last thought

Booker was alone for as long as he could remember. Even despite the fact his work revolved around people, & back when he was a child his family was a big one, he was always alone.

How many times had the other kids excluded him from their play? He had lost count. He couldn’t remember any other kids having trouble with getting into pairs for school work, they always had someone. He was lucky if there was an event number of kids in school that day.

When he was in the army, Slate had told him to go & socialise with his fellow soldiers. They ignored him, until they found out he wasn’t the sort of American they liked. Then they wouldn’t let him be, but it wasn’t the sort of attention he had hoped for. He wasn’t like them, & people not like them were punished.

There was a woman in his life, once. A woman & a child. And when he thought that they would finally stay, they slipped through his fingers & he was left alone again.

He’d frequent a few bars during his life in New York. There were one or two he most often visited after a job. He was a regular, the barman knew his favourite drink to order & all. He thought he had made friends, when he found himself laughing along with the other regulars. But then they’d make plans, organise hangouts & the likes, right in front of him. He was never invited.

Over time, it became a routine: work, eat, sleep. He didn’t even go gambling anymore, he didn’t go drinking. He couldn’t afford it, & he had grown tired & sick of being around so many people. He’d rather be alone by choice than by force.

Arriving in Columbia was unlike any other job he had taken on. For one, his target wasn’t even where she was supposed to be. Then he had gotten caught up with the Vox. The Vox & Daisy. He had helped them only to get to the girl, originally at least. Originally, he was using them as much as they were using him. But organising a rebellion is not a one-day job. Days, weeks, they were getting ready. He had begun to think that maybe, just maybe, he had finally found a place for himself. Daisy seemed to like him enough. Yet she was so fast to turn on him when he had returned. Returned from the dead, but should that have been so surprising in a place like Columbia?

He hasn’t died alone, as he had expected. But then again, the world did have a twisted sense of humour.

Now he was in the future. He had drowned, back there in Columbia, died like he had deserved. And yet he was brought back, by some cruel twist of fate. It took a while for him to heal. Physically, that is. He knew by now that he wasn’t OK mentally, & he doubted he'd ever get better. Not anymore.

When Jack & Elizabeth had invited people over, some friends of theirs, he was ushered upstairs by Elizabeth. When he asked why, she told him that she didn’t think he’d be alright with so many people around. He was still healing, & she didn’t want him to get stressed out. He wanted to bite back, say how he could choose himself whether he wanted to be around so many people or not. But he didn’t, because he realised she obviously didn’t want him there, not really.

He stood on the stairs, listening to them all laugh, as if he didn’t even exist. He might as well hadn’t. It dawned on him, everything in his life that led up to that point. Was he simply destined to be alone? Some people just weren’t meant to have friends, they weren’t made for society. He surely wasn’t, & it weren’t just his skills with a gun that clued him in on that. He... He was just meant to be alone. Hearing them all downstairs, laughing... It hurt. But it didn’t have to, right? Back in the 1900s he had shut himself off from human contact, going about his life in a near catatonic state. Just work, after work, after work. No forced connections, no nothing. It didn’t hurt then, even if he felt nothing but numbness. It didn’t have to hurt now either. Being alone by choice was better than by force.

Then, he closed the door. And he turned the lock.


End file.
